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‘The ratings I guess.’ After ten years, and nine seasons, viewers’ tastes had moved on – and so had the studio. Of course, there was still the dedicated fanbase who wanted the show to go on, but times had changed, and as the star of the show, although he hadn’t changed all that much – apart from some crows’ feet around the eyes – he wasn’t twenty-something anymore.
He glanced at the cab driver. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Okay. Well, I hope you catch Henry on a good day.’
Callum got in the taxi, hoping he did too.
Chapter 14
Callum stepped into the room. He had been relieved when he turned up at the care home and discovered it had once been an iconic hotel on the outskirts of Edinburgh before it closed its doors and was taken over by a company running care homes.
He could see why his mother had chosen the place. His father had always liked old things – old books, old houses, old cars. He thought again of the VW campervan parked in the garage. He was surprised his mum hadn’t got rid of it. Perhaps that was on her to-do list for after she’d renovated the house. Or maybe she already had. He hadn’t thought to ask. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out she’d got rid of it after she’d caught his father trying to drive it away. And he imagined she’d want to tuck her new little sports car away in the garage instead.
He glanced around his father’s en suite room. It was a decent size, with a double bed and old-fashioned oak furniture. It looked as though the company had purchased the hotel lock, stock, and barrel. He wouldn’t be surprised if the room was exactly as the hotel had left it when it was sold.
‘Hello, Dad.’
His father had his back to him. He had a small watering can and was watering some potted plants on the windowsill.
He turned around at the sound of Callum’s voice. ‘Son, what are you doing here?’
Callum smiled, relieved that his father recognised him.
‘I thought you were in America, working on your show?’
‘I’m taking a break.’
‘Has the season wrapped up?’
Callum grinned. That was just what his mum had asked. Sparing his dad the details, Callum just said, ‘Yes.’
His eyes dropped to the watering can. His dad had turned around with the can, and was now watering the carpet. Callum rushed forward. ‘Here, let me take that.’
He handed over the watering can and stepped forward, his foot squelching on the sodden carpet. ‘Oh, dear – the carpet’s wet.’
Callum put the watering can down on the chest of drawers near the bed. He looked at his father.
‘Dad, aren’t you a bit chilly down there?’
‘Down where?’
Callum stared at him. His dad was standing there wearing a shirt, a tie, a jumper and his underpants.
Henry looked down. ‘Crumbs, what happened to my trousers?’
‘I think you forgot to put them on?’
‘Of course I didn’t! What a stupid thing to say.’
Callum pursed his lips and turned around, fighting back tears. This was just what he’d feared, seeing the effects of dementia on his father first hand. He walked over to the wardrobe. Inside were shirts and trousers hanging on hangers. He took a pair of trousers out of the wardrobe and took a deep breath, trying to keep it together and not break down in front of his father. ‘Here.’
He watched his dad sit down on the bed and put them on. ‘Honestly, I have no idea how that happened.’
‘It’s all right, Dad. It’s just one of those things.’ Which it was if you had Alzheimer’s. He watched his dad do up the zip.
‘Callum, you need to do something for me before it’s too late.’
Callum walked over and sat down on the chair beside his bed. He leaned forward. ‘Too late?’
